time for the final bout. rows of deserted houses: all our stable mates are
highway bound. give us our measly sum: getting the air inside my lungs is
heavenly. we're starting out with nothing but crippling doubt. we'll rest easy
(justified). I've suffered a swift defeat, I'll endure countless repeats. the
gift of memory is an awful curse. with age it just gets much worse, but I won't
mind.
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